


Comatose Thoughts

by sherlockedwriter



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-12
Updated: 2013-08-12
Packaged: 2017-12-23 06:02:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/922841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sherlockedwriter/pseuds/sherlockedwriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock and John are involved in a horrific car accident, with Sherlock dying upon impact and putting John in a coma for three weeks. When John wakes up, he is disoriented and confused and goes into denial about Sherlock's death. </p>
<p>Prompt from imagineyourotp.tumblr.com .</p>
            </blockquote>





	Comatose Thoughts

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first finished fan fiction, so I would appreciate any comments and/or feedback. I was the only person to edit it, so any mistakes are purely mine.

Laughter. Smiles. Jokes. Then screams. An earsplitting crash. Those are the last things Sherlock Holmes hears before silence. Endless silence, a silence that cannot be escaped. Paired with a darkness of the same kind, it makes death.

It's only logical, he supposes, that when a car is propelled into his side, he should die. It's not like he's afraid of death, he's been chasing it for years, but Sherlock doesn't exactly want to leave his life behind today. It has been a happy day, the conjoining of two souls with a celebration and a signing of a certificate, one the consulting detective does not want to tinge with grief.

-

_Sherlock_ , is the first thing his brain murmurs when John Watson awakes from a cocktail of confusion, metal and blood. John doesn't really think he's properly awake, as he can't see anything and his eyes won't open, but he can almost hear voices, if he strains. Ah, a bed. Beeping. He must be in a hospital.

_But where's Sherlock? Is he okay?_ His head refuses to leave him alone. Between the pounding in his skull, the ache all over his body and the persistent nagging in the back of his brain concerning the doctor's most loved, John knows he won't be getting much rest tonight. He tries to tell his brain to shut up, Sherlock's fine, he's dodged Death's fatal call once already, there's nothing to worry about, but still the feeling remains. _Can you really be sure? Completely certain?_ John ignores it and dozes off.

-

When the next awakening occurs, John is feeling much better. There isn't as much of an ache in his head and almost all the pain from the rest of his body has dissipated. The one thing that hasn't changed is his brain's thoughts, which he supposes are his, in some incoherent way. _What about Sherlock? Is he alright, alive even?_ John tries to banish the thoughts, but they are inevitably constant. No matter how hard John tries, it seems like he will never be able to quash these ignorant ideas. John rolls over and goes back to sleep.

Or, at least, tries to. John finds himself unable to move, lying utterly still. He isn't uncomfortable, per se, but it would be nice to regain control over his limbs. Oh. _Oh_. John supposes he did know, in an unconscious way, that he was in a comatose state, but it still comes as a bit of a shock. _How long have we been in a coma_ , John's brain asks itself, _and when are we going to see Sherlock again?_

-

The next time, John is jolted awake by a scream. His heart rate increases, it's Harry. He's overcome by a brotherly instinct to protect, then remembers where he is. Still, he strains to hear what is going on. Nothing, for a while, then- "...yes, Mrs Watson, I am so sorry, but it really doesn't look like your son is improving, so-" the nurse is cut off by an indignant Harry.  
"But a week! A week! That's hardly fair, what if he wakes up the day after a week?"  
"I am terribly sorry miss, but what if never wakes up? He state isn't improving at all, we've mended the broken bones, but a week is standard time for letting you say your goodbyes and..."  
John stops listening in then. He's heard enough. Only a week to live. _Maybe that's the best thing_ , his brain mutters. For once, John responds. Why? _Because maybe Sherlock will be there. Maybe Sherlock didn't survive_. John cuts off his own thoughts and drifts back to sleep.

-

The next six days are, John imagines, very difficult for his mother and Harry. They wait for him to wake up, but to no avail. _But today is different_ , his mind tells him. _Today IS the day you will wake up. Today you will wake up and find Sher_ \- No. Today is the day he will wake up, yes, but he will not, under any circumstances, find Sherlock to be dead.

For the first time in weeks, John is filled with a determination. A determination to relieve his mother and his sister and anyone else who may be worried of their stress, to go to Sherlock and show his brain that yes, yes Sherlock is alive, why wouldn't he be? He's filled with a determination to finally, after long weeks of nothingness, see the sun again. John Hamish Watson is determined to wake up.

So wake up he does. First he shouts at his hands to move, _move_ , for crying out loud, then at his legs to wake up and smell the roses, they are walking today. When they do as he says, he tackles the more disobedient part of himself, his head. He goes into army mode, yells at his brain to get _up_ , today is the day, yes it is, today's the day that his eyes will open, that he will speak again, that he will see Sherlock again. For once, his brain listens to him. Perhaps it was the mention of Sherlock, but his brain pays attention and John is lifted, slowly but surely, from underneath a harsh veil of silence and darkness.

-

All of his doctors and nurses come running when they hear the joyful weeping of Mrs Watson and are delighted to see John Watson, the patient who had survived so much, sitting up in his bed and looking around dazedly. There is much fussing around and talking, until he holds up a hand and opens his mouth. The first word he utters is a devastated blow to everyone who knows him personally. "Sherlock?"

A stunned silence settles through the room. John clears his throat and asks again, "Sherlock? Where is he?" He grins and inquires, "Is he on one of his cases again? Is that why Lestrade isn't here either?" Lestrade appears from behind one of the nurses. "Mate, I'm really sorry, but-"  
"You're telling me he's dead."  
"He died on impact, it was quick, no pain. I can't tell you how sorry I am."  
To everyone's surprise, John laughs.  
"He isn't dead. Of course he's not. He's faked his death before, bloody bastard, and now he's gone and done it again. Just wait until I find him!" He acts out strangling someone in midair.  
"No, John, I know it's hard for you, but this time he's really... you know..." comes a quavering voice from the back. Molly.  
"Really? He didn't tell you this time? He wouldn't have told Mycroft, but he can't be dead. He just can't." A dreadful silence fills the room, and John's grin fades noticeably.

When John speaks again, his voice is riddled with sadness. "I... I want to be alone." To his surprise, his wish is granted with no objection. He falls back onto his pillow, mulling over the situation. His Sherlock... dead? No. He has a firm belief that he will see Sherlock and apologise over and over again because he thought that Sherlock was dead for a few moments, when Sherlock is alive, alive and healthy, because Sherlock is the one he loves the most in the entire universe, and nothing can remove Sherlock from his beloved doctor, not even death. Sherlock has survived everything for John, he'd jumped off a building for crying out loud, he could survive a little car crash. Sherlock could not be dead, no no no, because Sherlock wouldn't allow it. Sherlock would catch a glimpse of Death beckoning him and beat him bloody to get back to John. Sherlock could not be dead. It was impossible. For Sherlock had once told John that he'd be lost without his blogger, and whilst that may be true, John was lost without Sherlock more than he thought possible.


End file.
